The Master Bedroom of 13 Forever Close
by mercurial2010
Summary: Mr B Brady and Mr S Hay; Flat 20, House 13, Forever Close; Manchester. Stendan at their most domestic are generally happy, supported through their pain and are very sexy. Three chapters of pure domesticity.
1. Chapter 1

**The master bedroom of House 13, Forever Close.**

**A/N:**

This is for Marble Eyes, FranceGLfan and everyone else I've broken the hearts of recently – hopefully this will go some way into making it up to you.

I just wanted to add that this no way means I'm finished with Another Forever, just it has a very angsty plot. And after cannon I needed a little fluff and listening to reviews thats what you guys needed too :)

**About this fic:**

In 2016 Stendan move into a flat on Forever Close and this fic is set in their bedroom. It's a ficlet told in the final Saturday of each month across 18 months.

Most of cannon happened, but Cheryl didn't shoot Seamus (although he is still dead) and Brendan didn't confess to the police. Cheryl lives in Dublin with Nate, and following (cannon)Dublin Stendan have never been, and will never be, separated. Oh and apparently Mitzeee lives in Manchester too.

Marble eyes said I should write a happy fic for y'all so I produced this. This is going to be three chapters of pure domesticity. I'm aiming for a majority of fluff, but it's Stendan so obviously it's going to be smutty, and it's me so it's not void of angst, as would always be true for their lives together.

This chapter actually seems to be mainly smut, not sure how that happened but I definitely blame the boys. The fluff grows in later chapters!

And there's one bit of nasty angst right in the middle.

**Warning:**

Usuals – smut and angst.

Please review I love reading your words oh and and if any of you have any ideas for what you'd like a month to be about let me know :)

* * *

**5.25 am; Saturday 27 August 2016**

"Oh God I love it when you talk to me, Steven."

Mr Brady and Mr Hay paid the deposit as soon as they saw the flat's advertised on the internet. From the very first moment they both knew the home on Forever Close was theirs. It is perfect. It has all the touches that Brendan requires for him to even consider it aesthetically pleasing: modern, clean cut, sharp lines; perfectly combined with all the colour and comfort Ste needs to feel at home. It was like someone had designed a house in the style of their lives – the perfect arrangement of them - scally turned homemaker Steven Hay and ex-crim turned boyfriend Brendan Brady. It has four bedrooms - important for when the kids come to stay; and a big master bedroom with an en suite and a shower wet room - important for long weekend mornings when they haven't. The couple moved in five days ago.

The most important thing about this flat is that it is two streets away from Amy's, and they've already talked about Friday night sleepovers and Sunday roast dinners countless times. Leah Barnes informed her mother last night that, at 9, she is definitely old enough to walk to the home of both her Daddys' without any stupid grown-ups; though all her parents have slightly different ideas from her.

Ste's unpacked every last corner of every one of his ten neatly labelled, perfectly stacked, boxes. Despite several attempts to leave Chester without the man who owned his heart he hadn't moved his adult life for a long time. He wanted to make get the task done properly. So he'd looked at several clips on you tube and made six lists before packing. He didn't really want, or need, to give Brendan another chance to have the upper hand – that's his role for life now, ensuring Mr Brady was forever kept in his place, _humbly_ by his love's side.

Brendan was surprised, disappointedly so, that the homemade videos that were keeping his lover up all night weren't more of the adult variety. And, after that incident with the bubble wrap, he quickly realised packing was not a new fetish.

Brendan himself has a completely different notion of packing, and unpacking. His filled-to-the-brim suitcases are still all over the floor in the state they arrived in. Ste doesn't really mind though, he knows he's been keeping the older man overly occupied.

Monday they will unpack. Monday they will find new premises for the deli and club. Monday they will finally arrange a play date with the kids. This weekend, though, they're more actively engaged.

"God I love doing you in this bed."

"Ah Brendan! Ah you feel so good!... Yeah give it to me just like that. Fucking LOVE you."

"Oh scream for me Steven."

Oh yeah, that's the other thing they quite like about the house – adequate sound proofing!

* * *

**10.30 am and 1.00 pm; Saturday 24 September 2016 **

"Bren, make us a brew please?... Bren? Brendan?"

Ste swiftly rolls his eyes as he realises why his requests aren't getting any sort of response. The silent treatment. Brendan was more than a decade older than him, but that didn't prevent him from acting the same age as his kids.

"Ah I'm getting proper sick of this now me, are you seriously still not talking to me?! I'm not saying no, not a proper no anyway."

"Well you're not exactly saying yes!"

"I don't remember it being a proper question, asking when you're blissed out after fucking is not the most romantic way."

Ste can't help but laugh a little - if you told him three years ago they'd be having this argument he'd have thought you needed sectioning. He was so entirely not expecting Brendan to ask _that_ last night that at first he thought he'd misheard him. Then, when Brendan paused like he was waiting for a response, Ste decided he needed to start putting limits on the man's alcohol intake, even at happy gatherings – like his sister's wedding yesterday.

Brendan stands in their doorway in nothing but his oversized relaxing-morning boxers, a hand on his muscular hips, and a look on his face that exactly matched Leah's look of petulancy. Ste can't help but laugh louder.

Brendan's pissed, however petty he will feel later. So he arms himself with the defence he knows works even if he's about to tire it out – Douglas.

"So you're saying to make you say yes I need to I get down on one knee? Or would you rather I took you for a romantic weekend to Chester and painted a sign on the club wall?!"

"No, absolutely no!"

Ste sighs. He really doesn't want to upset his love, and this idea of Brendan's was _fantastical_. But that is the point. It's a pattern. Brendan gets these ideas in his head, like how they should do things together - go on a date, visit a gay club, go on a backpacking holiday around the globe. He goes along with them for a while until Ste's actually building up hope and then he starts to back out. He's been deceptive about it too – especially with the tickets to Australia.

Ste didn't even dare to believe that they were actually going to make the move to Manchester until they arrived, and then he kept thinking he'd wake up without him. It _was_ Brendan's pattern.

And that old defensive pattern originated from a conversation exactly like this didn't it? A conversation about how marriage would be alright. There were other things going on then as well, as there always were in their old lives in Chester, but Ste had felt Brendan pull back as soon as he'd said it.

This idea, now, is what Ste used to hope for so hard. He craved a public celebration of their love like it was an illicit dream. But that was before now. Before now, when all he wants in the world is a lifetime with Brendan - he wants a partnership, not a wedding. A lifetime – not a day.

Ste climbs out of bed, and is pleasantly surprised when the older man doesn't back away from his touch – not really that pissed then. He wraps his arms around those hips. He doesn't expect an answering embrace, yet.

"I love you."

"Hmmm." Brendan refuses eye contact, "just not enough to marry me."

That's what got his goat the most, the fact that Ste would marry someone he didn't truly love in a heartbeat, but he wouldn't marry him - it must mean that Brendan wasn't as important as Ste's ex mustn't it?

"No Brendan, I love you more than you're ever going to realise right -just, we've only been proper together less than four years, innit?"

"Oh yeah course cos you have a suitability for marriage cut off point after four months don't you?"

Ste laughed at the older man's wit, had to concede he did have a point, except-

"You can't just bring up Doug to help you win everything! That wedding was proper rushed and you know it right - _and_ you know why."

Brendan smiles down at his love then, a sort of smile, as he senses their lucky feeling. Thinking about how much they've gone through to be here always makes him feel like he's part of a special love. And those months before the wedding and just after had been the hardest, they were closest he had ever got to hell. He knows Ste thinks they were both aware, on some hidden level, that their conversation about love and faith on the morn of Ste's wedding had nothing to do with the Yank. But he doesn't share that amount of trust. He thinks he's possibly still in a little shock from when Ste turned up in Dublin - he had prepared for a lifetime of deprivation. That was part of why Brendan still expected Ste to wake up and realise he was worth so much more than Brendan's dreams. And that was a big part of the proposal – he'd long ago resolved that if Ste was determined they had to be together, he was going to make it the best time ever, for however long they were granted.

"And it's different for us innit?" Ste smiles. "Cos I proper love you, and you love me too."

Brendan kisses his happiness.

"Anyway, y'know, it aint been that long since-" since that time they don't talk about because Ste forgave Brendan quicker than he should have, and Brendan never once forgave himself. "I mean you've not really done the anger management course yet have you?"

Ste was so proud that Brendan was even trying, that he wanted to try _for him_. Things are always getting in the way but he still knows that he's entirely safe in the man's embrace. Brendan doesn't have that conviction, feels each time he's failed like a cross against his heart and each memory as a reminder he isn't worth this. He backs out of his boy's embrace, self-hatred causing bitterness to lath his tongue.

"I'm not going to hurt you Steven!"

"I know, I know!... But… look, I'm not saying no right? I'm just saying - one day."

Ste regrets taking them to these memories. He maps a hand over his love's cheek and knows there's only one way of lifting his spirits now.

He keeps his eyes fixed to the man of his deepest dreams and wildest fantasies as he slowly, decadently, walks to their bed.

"So can you come back to bed now?"

Brendan raises an eyebrow as Steven's seduction dances over him. He should be stronger now he gets it on a daily basis. There is a millisecond of time when he upholds a good pretence of not beeign weak.

"Please?" Ste breathes long and drawn out, turning on his heal to expose his arse like Brendan's own secret treasure.

And there will always be one million things Brendan would do for that arse.

***S&B***

"You know three years ago I proper would have said yes and forced you into the nearest registry office within the hour."

"Cut off point!" Brendan says taking that as his proof that his boy was insane.

Brendan had thought about it possibly once or twice over the last year, when he had been happily tuning out from Cheryl's Bridezilla moments. But he honestly didn't know he was going to ask him last night. Everything is instinctive when Ste's released him that much, and yeah he may be soft now, if his instinct is _marriage_.

"I just don't think this is the best time to talk about it right? We've just moved and opened two new businesses, we're proper broke, and I proper don't want a wedding with you to be rushed, I want us to have _everything_. Cos this is the last time either of us are ever going to do it, innit?"

"Since when did you get to be the sensible one?" Brendan growls a little vexed.

Ste giggles, thinks of yesterday, and responds, "probably over the last year since you've been getting soft over your sister's wedding!"

"I've told you, I am _not_ getting soft!"

"You bloody cried, you!"

"I had hayfever, Steven!"

"Oh yeah cos you get to 39 and suddenly develop hayfever – happens all the time that!"

Brendan man handles Steven underneath him, sucking at that sass until they both moan again.

"It was a proper nice day," Ste sighs happily – Brendan had given Cheryl away as planned, and Ste had stepped up as Nate's best man at the last minute, it was almost like it was _their_ day.

"Yeah, it was."

"And that's the reason you wanna do this now."

"I can't exactly say walking down that aisle toward you in that incredible tux hurt –" Brendan says, hands and eyes lowering over Ste's tight body. "But I just wanna do this because I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I thought we'd agreed to do that anyway, else what was that padlock about?"

"I'm never going to stop asking, you know."

"I can deal with that."

* * *

**9.00 am; Saturday 29 October 2016 **

Brendan's eyes flutter in dreams, his lips are pulled into a tight smile. This is Ste's favourite sort of Brendan – the relaxed and natural man he calls 'Bren', or if Ste's really pushing it then 'babe'.

Ste maps the physique of a man that's happily settled and those heaven-like arms that promise eternal strength and protection. He charts the lines of wisdom the last six years have caused and the shades of pepper in his hair. His gaze slides over that mouth that is infinitely kissable and the moustache grown long under request - _Dublin long._

Brendan feels a weird almost tickly sensation of something moving across his tash.

"What are you doing right now, Steven?!" He asks, sleep carried in his voice, his eyes still not open.

He smiles as he hears the voice of his love record the history of their love, and an index finger strokes the tash.

"About six years ago I fell for this man who had a proper ridiculous moustache, right. Well, I thought that at the time anyway. It was like one of those handlebar ones y'know like you see in old films, just straight down though. I used to laugh at it occasionally, when he wasn't looking right, which come to think of it was barely ever. But even though it was proper funny it kinda did things to me. I was with some guys after who barely had enough facial hair, and I missed it, me, this tash, it was never quite the same with anyone else. Oh God and like three years ago, when we were back together, he got it into his head to shave it off completely – that was bad times! Cos I like it - the way it feels when he kisses me, and y'know I really like it when he does other things to me."

Brendan opens his eyes for the adorable blush he knows is against his boy's cheeks after those words. He just takes a snapshot of the beloved, preserved innocence, and then closes them again.

"So anyway I guess you could say I've spent years watching it, this tash. And I'm kinda fond of it now, like it's a part of us. It's got it's own memories innit. There was one time when we weren't together, and he went away and came back with a beard. I never got to know what that was like, you know to feel. I proper imagined it enough though – like fantasies, cos it would be like the tash wouldn't it – just more."

"Do you want me to grow it? I would – for you."

Brendan exhales deeply as he feels the exquisite sharpness of Ste's teeth along his jaw.

"I'll think about it - I dunno at the moment right, cos the star attraction is always the tash innit? I've seen it lengthen and shorten, me. I like it when it's proper long, like this. It used to be really dark, but he's older now right so it's actually _got some greys_."

Brendan's eyes open now, wide and dazed – feigning insulted. His jaw slackens in shock, until he's laughing, and his hand stings against the boy's arse.

"I am not grey!"

"You are a little," Ste teases, mock-serious. "It's alright though, it's proper sexy-"

As the man starts to pout his boy grabs his kiss, forcing his mouth wide with all those tricks he didn't know till there was him.

Ste moves his lips quickly, treasuring the rush of Brendan Brady's star attraction.

As Brendan pulls away, Ste's eyelashes are lowered, his eyes dark.

He's breathless, "fuck! I love the feel of it when he kisses me."

"Really?"

"Hmmm."

"How about when I do this?" Brendan asks before running just the very tips of it over Ste's throat, adam's apple, fluttering pulse point.

"Yeah, hmmmph, that's good."

Brendan places an arm around the boy's waist, supportive in its dominance, and he twists them around. He takes position above his boy to find out where exactly the moustache is liked the most.

* * *

**1.30 am and 9.30 am Saturday 26 November 2016**

"Oh you know what Brendan, this just happened cos you're grumpy. _And_ you're just on at me cos you're grumpy. And you're grumpy cos you're tired so. **Go. To fucking. Sleep**!"

The words are out of Ste's mouth before he has time to think them through, and he regrets them as well he should. This time of year, around Brendan's birthday, is never great for them. Nightmares of past hurt cover their bed till just a simple touch can be misconstrued like a trigger of abuse. And the prescription pills Brendan takes to get through had multiplied this year. It wasn't until they had a week's long argument about that that Ste knew why – it had been thirty years since the very worst time.

"Great thanks for bringing that one up Steven, really classy of you!"

Ste rolls his eyes. Brendan's nightmares meant that he couldn't sleep at night, and Brendan not sleeping at night meant Ste wasn't sleeping at night. So their house was full of miscommunications and reminders of their own old nasty games.

It was both of them who'd done something this time – Brendan had spent three grand on a new dishwasher without Ste knowing and purposefully had it installed when he was at work. And Ste had swiftly put it up on their joint ebay account, without telling Brendan.

"I'm on at you cos you're fucking over reacting and being fucking ridiculous! It's a dishwasher Steven and you're acting like it's as bad an eightball!"

"Yeah and how long until it is drugs Brendan eh?"

Brendan's eyes taper with disused arguments until his impulse is to punch their cupboard door, and then Ste's eyes really taper. He isn't scared of Brendan's physical displays anymore, thinks the man's actually kind of ridiculous when he does things like that – he will be whining tomorrow.

"I tell you sommit - before you live with someone you really should proper read the small print."

"Oh that's great advice cos you know I'm in the mood for a replacement, being pretty sick of you!"

Those words sting them both and the argument stops like whiplash. The bitter taste of the dark side of their love covers this room. There's nothing but the heavy inhales and exhales of lovers' arguments for long painful minutes.

Then Brendan's eyes close and his jaw clicks as he cowers at himself. He takes a step across the infinite distance separating him from the love of his life.

"Nu-uh - you said that!"

"Yeah well maybe I meant it."

"You're not staying in here tonight!"

"Like I'd want to."

***S&B***

Those words replay in Brendan's head like the very worst lines of a song for hours, not even his favourite music can replace it. The way he hit their cupboard plays in the back of his eyes and he can't even see the television. It's the first night it's anything but his father in his head for two weeks.

Brendan knows he's safe now. But ever since Seamus made his reappearance four years ago, he hasn't slept on their _special_ anniversaries. And this one - that led to a broken rib and… blood, this one is always the worst.

But no matter how strong his inner anguish Brendan has only once taken it out on his Steven. Twice now. The only place he's ever found peace is Ste's embrace and tonight he's taken that away from himself. This is the loneliest night he's ever spent and all they had to do to change events was talk.

Eight hours later he makes a latte with four sugars and brings it into the bedroom he banished himself from.

Ste, who has barely slept either, can feel the man's eyes linger over him but stays unresponsive.

"I'm sorry, Steven." Brendan breathes and the boy can hear the depth behind it.

He feels a cold press of familiar lips against his neck but resists - until Brendan starts to climb out of their bed again.

Brendan relents to the boys grip around his wrist and the look of silent scorn in his eyes. He lets his knuckles be examined mutely.

"Did you sleep?" Ste asks, inspecting the man's eyes.

All Brendan does is shake his head and Ste is drenched in concern. He presses his lips in a sign of forgiveness and laces it with his own apology.

"I wish I could say more than sorry," Brendan offers.

"Shut up about it now. I've already taken the bloody thing off ebay anyway, it's gotta be easier than doing all the fucking dishes right… and you're never gonna replace me Brendan right? And as for me, well I'm going to spend every day of forever loving you aren't I? Me."

* * *

**11.54 pm Saturday 31 December 2016 **

Their happy New Year's are swallowed into each other's hungry mouths. Eyes flash as hard aching skin is touched and bodies fit infinitely.

"Ah Bren I proper want you to come in me at midnight."

Ste looks amazing tonight. 'Pop stars' had been Cheryl's idea of a party theme so she could be Marilyn for a night. But tonight, as every other New Year's Eve, even she had to concede that Ste has the best costume.

There were many good looking guys at their party. Ste's young staff and Brendan and Mitzeee's purposefully chosen club eye candy had come as all good looking stars. But Ste's in a pristine grey suit with a thin black tie. And Brendan's wearing a very low buttoned top which displays all that power and thick dark chest hair. And the boys have barely stopped staring at each other, everyone knows they only have eyes for each other.

Before tonight Brendan didn't know he had a thing for Justin Timberlake, even in that SexyBack video everyone claimed was erotic.

Tonight had been full of the boy's longing lingering looks over beer bottles and sways of his arse to the music. And the man's responses of party-inappropriate poses and low long whispers. They've been winding each other up and both are coiled so tightly they could explode. Now, behind closed doors, lustful friction is their only thought.

In the silence of the middle of two songs Ste's hand neglects his silver cane for the sake of a grope of thick muscle - and it clatters to the floor by the door.

"Shut up!" Brendan warns.

Their bedroom lock had broken in the midst of an argument on Christmas Eve so they weren't quite as private as Brendan would usually hope. And if somebody was to walk in they'd get a lot more than they'd bargained for.

When trousers are lost Brendan's hands shift Ste, or _Justin_, up the wall and the boy's legs wrap the man's hips in possession. Ste jokingly tugs on Brendan's biker helmet – his favourite part of the Glenn Hughes Village People outfit he had dared Brendan to wear. He was pretty sure he wouldn't see Brendan in this, even as the first guests had arrived tonight. So now Ste laughs sassily, triumphantly, until it turns into a long hard whimper as Brendan unites them.

Brendan moves firmly, but gently. He knows he's harder than he has been for a while, bigger, and there hasn't been a lot of time for lube. Alcohol's acted as a relaxant though. In the boy's glowing blue eyes Brendan can see the quick diminishment of the pain to the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked.

Ste hears the play of Millennium – the last song Cheryl wanted to play before midnight.

"We've gotta be quick!" Ste insists, "hard yeah?"

"I'm only going to give you what you can take," Brendan whispers, protective tonight.

"Fuck off Brendan!" Ste insists wanting nothing more than that edge of pain pleasure that the man had owned like an instinct from the very first touch.

He wants to come for another year spent with the man of his dreams.

And he knows the words that are going to make the man really give it to him, "I wanna use the cuffs later."

Predictably, responsively, Brendan jerks his hips hard and Ste's moan echoes loud through the air.

"You've gotta be quiet," Brendan says dominantly, like a threat, and Ste feels lust pull every muscle. "Think you can handle that?"

Brendan doesn't wait for the answer, presses his mouth wide against his boys, tasting a cocktail of shots, absorbing a mixture of moans.

The countdown starts and Brendan fulfils the boys request perfectly. He fucks him hard and fast, and growls as he feels the boy's muscles swallow and grasp his naked cock.

_Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven._

Brendan shifts Ste's legs further up his back, shifting in deeper and tilts to that angle he's memorised for an eternity. He senses the exact moment Ste's moans become a little too uncontrollable and pushes the boy's head into his shoulder, allows his skin to be bitten. Prompts his Steven's wildness because there's nothing that makes him feel so good.

_Six, Five, Four, Three._

Brendan loves the way Steven Hay comes, always has done. The shy boy turns into this wild, erotic creature, and swears like his pretty little mouth is the dirtiest fucking thing Brendan has ever witnessed. Ste in this moment is unbeatable, un-missable, irreplaceable.

_Two._

So when Brendan says, "come for me," it's with a soul-desired urgency.

_One!_

And when Ste's inner muscles pull at Brendan's cock, and his seed slashes hard and wet, Brendan comes too because he can't control it.

"IFuckingLoveYouUGHSteveeeen," he climaxes with a declaration of his love.

Happy New Years are panted into glowing skin.

"Never knew Glenn Hughes had such a thing for Justin Timberlake," Ste laughs as soon as he can talk. Brendan just presses a groan against the boy's shoulder bone.

Usually these days they kiss for hours as they cool together - Ste's trained Brendan to like it like that. They don't have time for that tonight, and they know it, but they still kiss through the older man's after tremors.

Brendan refuses to let Ste from his grasp. The room resounds with their whispers - declarations of true, never felt before, love; New Year's resolutions of no more arguments; and lifetime promises of eternity.

These loving whispers fill all the spaces between them and so the miss the call of, "you in here boys?"

Cheryl Crowe, Anne Minniver, Mitzeee or whatever she's calling herself tonight, sheds exposing light on the lover's private tryst. She makes an unnecessarily loud noise of disgust, acts like she hasn't caught them at it in the club twice in the three months.

"Just give us a minute Anne, yeah?" Brendan asks.

The alcohol in Ste's system makes him giggle at Brendan's look of horror and Brendan can't resist a taste of his true love's happiness.

"I swear to God," he whispers when they're alone again, "next year we're doing this night just the two of us, or I'll make you pay."

* * *

**11.12 am Saturday 28 January 2017 **

Brendan coughs as last week's dirty sock hurtles its way over his book and balances precariously on his glasses - the toe dangling onto his tash.

"I'm not saying ought Brendan right, but you live like a right pig! You proper don't know how to take care of yourself do you?!"

Ste's been away for two weeks, covering for the newly married Doug McQueen in their Chester Deli, and Brendan's pretty certain he missed him. He can vaguely recall doing something that felt like that anyway.

"If you expect me to hoover for you you've got another thing coming, and there is mould growing on mould by the sink! What's that about eh? How many times did you even cook and we even have a fucking _dishwasher_!"

Brendan laughs as Ste's rant continues; the boy's so lost in his words that he is easily surprised by Brendan's mischievous hands. The man's licentious movements leaving him flat out on his back.

Brendan climbs over Ste dominantly curving, trapping his body against the red bed sheets, silencing him into lust.

"You make the world's best housewife, Steven Hay, you know that?"

"That's supposed to make me want to marry you, is it?" Brendan's pleased, surprised but pleased, by Ste's acknowledgement of their uncompleted proposal. "Cos it's not proper convincing."

It's been three months since Brendan's last serious prompt, so this unexpected reference means the dream has been on the boy's mind as much as it's been on his own. Brendan is thankful of anything that makes Ste think they could get married, even if it's that bloody stupid Yank.

Brendan nears his boy, breathes him in like he did in the old days. Even though he's had him eight times since Ste came back twelve hours ago he craves him badly, like he did back then. His life's been far too empty and needlessly quiet without him.

"Don't you worry, I have other persuasion tactics up my sleeve," he whispers his accent licking around each word as he suggests sins.

"Sure about that?"

Brendan can see straight through Ste's act of defiance, can see the glow of their infinite fire on his freshly showered skin.

"Oh yeah."

"Oh…Ah, Brendan!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

Thank you so much for the lovely responses to the last chapter! I am so sorry it's taken so long to write this chapter – as Meredith Grey would say I am so not cut out for bright and shiny and I find it a real struggle to do any attempt at humour or fluff. However I now have something I don't honestly hate.

Which brings me onto my next lot of thank you's – to the awesomely brilliant and lovely Kylikki and the exceptionally talented Marble Eyes for the suggestions and structural help. Honestly without both of you guys this chapter would not be posted – therefore it is in your honours :) Thank you so so much :D

**Chapter Warning:**

There's a little bit of angst in this – not sure where it came from! I've tried to limit it but it is Stendan in their domesticity which I guess would never be angst free – right?

Also, as always, a flavouring of smut (not a lot though).

Also chapters rather long!

**7.30 am and 11.30 pm 25 Feburary 2017**

"So this it then? You just gonna walk out again, without saying owt, _again_?"

Brendan pauses by the door, his heart is choked solid. He had been quiet as he crept into the master bedroom and collected his clothes - he had hoped Ste would remain asleep.

He really doesn't have the time or energy to go one more round of this.

He turns around to look at his love sitting in their cold bed. His heart aches as he sees his Steven's eyes – bloodshot and hollow, evidence of tears cried in concealed isolation. He physically cowers at the way he's left the boy. He isn't worth a single second of this. He doubts anything has ever caused this pain but him.

"I have an eight am delivery Steven, you know that."

"Not the point is it? You find it proper easy to leave me."

Brendan knows that if he was a stronger man he would tell Steven how totally untrue that was.

If he was a stronger man he would have looked Eileen's act of defiance in the face and brought Steven anyway.

If he was a stronger man he wouldn't have pretended that taking Steven to Dublin would be easy, that his family would accept him as his lover as easily as if he had been female, as easily as they should.

If he was anything like the man Steven Hay deserves he definitely wouldn't have walked out on Valentine's day, without saying goodbye.

"Can we talk about this later, please?" Brendan exhales – his words coming harsh through pain.

"I dunno, _can_ you?" Ste says for point.

Brendan hadn't known how to tell him. Steven had built up so many dreams about a family holiday. He had created an itinerary full of plans about what to do with a 13 and 17 year old in Dublin. And he had spent ages talking through his closet, asking Brendan which clothes were 'less gay'. So how was Brendan supposed to say he had to go without him or not see Paddy at all?

"Anyway might be out later, Si texted, student night down Martha's, cheap alcohol, hot talent, great night innit?"

"When are you going? I'll come with you."

Brendan tries to pretend that the thought of that club doesn't totally repel him. He'd rather repulsion than the jealous paranoia a drunk and angry Steven could cause. The fact that Ste can't ever imagine a time he'd want a moment with anyone else, is something Brendan will never believe.

"Maybe I don't want you to. Don't want my closeted old boyfriend dragging my style down, you thought of that?"

Brendan tenses under Ste's anger, so all he can do is relent and say, "OK, have a good night, Steven."

***S&B***

"I got your text," Ste breathes, swaying slightly on his feet from the alcohol already consumed.

He really hadn't wanted to go out tonight but it was a way through the loneliness. There had been a lot of beer and a lot of noise and there were no answers at the bottom of his pint glass. There was another text though.

Brendan – Ste (10.30 pm): Leaving you is the hardest thing I've ever done, and always will be. I love you with all of me. xxx

"Was a proper nice text, thank you."

"I meant every word," Brendan insists.

"I know," Ste sighs exasperated by a lifetime of loving, and being loved by, Brendan Brady. "It's not that I don't know you love me."

"Good."

Brendan smiles, placing his book on the table and climbing out of bed to walk towards the boy. He can't stand anymore distance from the reason his heart beats.

"And I'm sorry about what I said this morning. I proper don't get why you did it though Brendan, did you think I wouldn't understand?"

"No! I just, I guess I didn't want to let you down, you know. That's all."

"You did let me down though, Brendan! You left me, without saying anything, on _Valentine's day_."

Brendan's pain rivets his entire body. He flounders as he searches for any cure for the most important thing in his life - _them_.

"I didn't even know where the fuck you were till Chez phoned me!"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh I've had it with your apologies!" Ste says, possibly a little angrier than he intended.

Brendan has apologised to him so many times over the last few months – there were now not two but three cocktails with names equivalent to "sorry Steven". But nothing ever seems to get any easier. How is he supposed to consider marrying a man who can leave untraceable in the blink of an eye?

But…there isn't an escape, never will be, because any future where they don't exist is a future where Ste doesn't either. And he knows Brendan feels the same - his words never say that and sometimes his actions say the opposite, but it's clear simply in all that he is. Ste knows it from Brendan's loyalty, the special 'Steven smiles' he has when they're alone, the way he tries every day to be part of something he's never known, and his perpetual eventual honesty - no matter how many new ways he finds to fuck up.

Ste places a hand against the man's cheek and it's sensed like a cure.

"You're proper shit at this aren't you?!" Ste jokes.

Momentarily Brendan's angry – defensively angry.

Then Ste's light laugh pulls Brendan's smile and their wordless love lights the dark night.

"I did warn you Steven, you know I need your help with this."

"Yeah you do, so you have to try and _accept_ it right – especially when we're married."

Brendan's heart leaps and he takes Steven's hand in his own, strokes the skin graspingly.

"'When'? So it's not out of the question?"

"It never has been. But there's so much that has to change Brendan."

"I know, you give me another chance and I promise you I will find a reason for you to love me."

"You're an idiot," Ste informs him matter of factly, "and just so you know this is the point when you stop punishing yourself and start making it up to me."

"Making it up to you?" Brendan flirts.

Ste nods quickly, "hmm and you have a lot of making up to do."

Brendan's eyes agree and then his long fingers are hooking into that shirt as he pulls Ste closer to him - only it's not like pulling, because Ste's approaching anyway, it's more like just releasing the desperate distance between them.

"Like, I would say probably a night's worth innit?" Ste's voice is low and despite the sting of alcohol it tastes sweet like honey.

"Oh at least," Brendan sounds dangerous.

Ste expects Brendan's touch to come as hard and possessive, full of a fortnight's addiction and craving. He expects to be made to scream and ache and crash hard. He expects to be dominated. That's not what he gets though.

Brendan's love is raw, passionate, hard and possessive. There are no rests and constant challenges. He makes you wake up and live and want life. And his sex is exactly the same. But occasionally there's a calm that exudes him, a light in the darkness and a gentleness over that rough claiming dominance. He becomes like no man Ste could ever imagine, like no man but him.

Slowly, like they have a forever, Brendan reaches long fingers up to Ste's rosebud lips, presses gently at the base, takes the boys breathe. The serenity feels like true reciprocated love.

"Do you want me to start like this Steven?"

**1.30 am Saturday 25 March 2017**

Brendan's life now is easier than it was for a very long time, he can see beauty. He knows the joy in his and Steven's long Sunday walks and the freshness of the celebratory beer at the end. He knows the cuteness in his children's smiles, like when Leah and Lucas are in the zoo or the aquarium or the farm staring with wide-eyed, new-world wonder. And he knows the complete and total relaxation of just being with Steven - like when they sit for hours and Brendan reads or does the crossword and Ste watches those awful reality programmes. He could see the beauty in those things now. So his life was easier than before, but it wasn't _easy_, and he didn't deserve it to be.

There are memories, sharp blinding malodorous memories, and sometimes there are dreams. His life will always be shaped by the black blurred traces of that night four years ago, and that will bring on the rushing whirlwind of the death before, and the blinding light of the death before that, and the screaming agony of the one before that, and the desperate possessive possession of his first.

"Can't sleep?" Ste blinks a sleep-laden eyelid open.

Brendan crowds into himself, hates keeping the boy awake because of this.

"Just a lot on my mind, you know?"

Ste runs his hand across his loves forehead, soothes the lines of pain.

"Do you want me to do it?" Ste asks suggestively, he understands the thing Brendan finds most powerful at bedtime.

"I wouldn't ask Steven, you've already done it so many times this week and I know you don't enjoy it."

"You're not asking, I'm offering."

Brendan smiles at his love, commits their mouths to a single kiss, and breathes, "please."

After November, when Ste finally made the GP concede that the pills were very likely to be the cause of the changes in Brendan's mood, Ste had researched all sorts of natural sleep cures. They'd pretty much done them all, separate bed covers till that got lonely, back massages till they agreed that didn't help any muscle _relax_, and keeping the room temperature at a minimum until Brendan kept getting colds. They'd tried pretty much everything. Brendan even tried some of that "bloody mumbo-jumbo witchcraft" - under reprimand. Nothing had worked. Ste would do anything to ease Brendan's days, but he'd almost given up before they found this.

Ste was happy they found the only thing that seemed to help, and that it involved him, but did it have to be his biggest failing?

"Anyway it's not that I don't enjoy it," Ste says sitting up to turn the bedside light on low, "I'm just proper bad at it."

"You're great at it," Brendan insists, "no-one does it like you."

"Yeah, everyone finds it easier!"

Ste relents to wearing Brendan's reading glasses, silently. They've already had the argument about necessity and Ste can't help but think that he looks almost cute in them –thinks that's possibly part of why Brendan insists on him wearing them too.

"Seriously I reckon Leah would do a better job than me! She's definitely better at voices!"

They came across it by accident. About three weeks ago Lucas had had a nightmare and was almost inconsolable, so he was allowed just once to sleep in his Daddies' bed. He begged Brendan for a story, only Brendan hadn't slept in a good few days either, and Ste could see he was grumpy so suggested they read it together. The idea that they read a chapter each lasted until the 10th page when he turned to his man and realised he was spark out with protective arms around their son.

Now, Brendan's bedtime story, works nearly every time.

**10.30 am Saturday 29 April 2017 **

"What do you wanna do today?" Ste asks. "I was thinking fry up, then bed for least like 6 rounds, and we can look after Leah and Lucas tonight if you like, take em to that restaurant they like?"

"I told you Steven, I don't want a fuss."

"Well, tough, cos I do so we're doing one!" Ste pouts.

"What are we celebrating anyway? That I've spent eight weeks getting a piece of paper that says I probably won't hit you anymore?!"

Brendan rolls his eyes, looking anywhere but his partner. Ste is being sweet and he knows that, he's trying to be supportive and acknowledge the fact that Brendan has achieved this. But Brendan doesn't feel like he's achieved very much at all. In his mind, he's taken over six years to stop doing something he never should have done in the first place. He knows neither of them can be convinced that the violence has stopped entirely. Things aren't that simple in their world. A lifetime of hatred and honed responses can't be cured from a single anger management course.

"You know I was thinking" Brendan starts and Ste can already hear the sarcasm. "I might pop down the shop – get a frame, so you can stick the certificate in the lounge and say to guests-'my boyfriend's proper clever aint he? He don't even hit me no more – innit', and he didn't even need to go see Jeremy to get it all fixed! I'm dead proud, me.'"

Ste pats Brendan on the arm, mock surprise – "hey you know that's a great idea!"

Brendan shakes his head, Ste sticks out his tongue and it's about two seconds before they're both laughing. Ste sighs, shucking further into his love's arm – today's one of those days that he wants them to share the same scent.

Ste knows there is nothing that will stop Brendan carrying this guilt for the rest of his life. But things are different between them now and Ste _is_ extremely proud - if he loved him before, he cherishes him now.

"If that were supposed to be me – it needs improving don' it?" Ste insists

"Yeah well maybe you need to speak scally to me more often." Brendan smiles – raising an eyebrow.

"So we are celebrating then?"

"You didn't tell me celebration necessitates scally! Absolutely I'm there whatever."

"You're a pervert that's what you are."

Brendan kisses Ste's laugh, sticks around for a bit after the kiss is over – likes doing that. They kiss differently these days, short pecks have replaced wild desperate embraces, and lingering smiles have erased the distance between them. Ste's beaming at him with complete trust these days. And despite the protest Brendan has to concede he does feel different - their entire relationship does. But he thinks that has less to do with his counsellor's overpaid work and more to do with everything that makes Steven Hay the man he is.

"Look, Brendan listen," Ste says and Brendan knows what's coming - their relationship rules are always approached like road crossings. "I'm not just celebrating the course am I? Right I'm celebrating us, and everything we can do, together - cos that's proper everything, innit?"

**10.30 am Saturday 27 May 2017**

"What do you want?" rings the wonderfully polite greeting down Brendan's iphone.

"Top of the day to you and all, Eileen." Brendan beams thinks they should have a national day to celebrate the winding up of ex-wife's – it's so much fun.

But he can hear the sounds of his Steven and their children in the kitchen and knows today's not the best of days to get on her bad side.

"Look I miss my boys," he says changing tact.

"You bin watching Godfather again? Wanna try out some protective fathering approaches?"

_I'm pretty sure even Vito Coellone's skills have one up on you_rs – he doesn't say.

"Yes - we both know there's a lot I need to make up to them, but we know I'm not gonna be able to do that unless I get to see 'em."

"You can see 'em here whenever you want." Eileen insists, and at least the last four years had changed that – he didn't need a visiting order these days, but _Steven_ did.

"I'm not just talking about Dublin, and I'm not just talking about me – look, you know Steven isn't just some lad I've been knocking around with, he's the one I live with, the one I share my life with."

_He's the one I'm gonna marry – whether he agrees to it or not_ – he doesn't say that either, not yet.

"Do you think it's not going to be hard for them to take, you know that you're-" funny how that word always sounds worse when it's not said.

_Yes Eileen – I'm gay, he's gay, we're all gay, can we finish, can we move on please?_

"-We agreed how we were going to bring em up Brendan."

"Of course it will be tricky, but don't act like we don't know they know, and I think you've bought em up to be pretty open minded young men."

In Eileen's stunned silence he raises an eyebrow at himself and nods self-satisfactorily – he's doing pretty well with being "Mr Nice" lately – the thing's Steven Hay could do.

"Your charm doesn't pay here no more Brendan Brady"

"Look Eileen I want my boys to know me and my life. A_nd_ my life is with Steven."

He takes a deep breath before he says the next part of his rehearsed speech. He really, really doesn't want to have to go there - the law isn't something Brendan Brady takes lightly, even these days when he's staying on the right side of it.

"There are ways of getting what I want, you know." Brendan warns.

"You wouldn't…" she starts to say but sounds less convinced by the end of the three syllables. So she sighs and says, "what weekend you talking?"

"The eighteenth."

"That's-"

"Father's day, yeah."

Brendan smiles. With a little sweet talking, and numerous cups of tea, Ms Barnes had welcomed him into the Hay family, and he had been given his second chance - now Leah and Lucas were two regular bustling features in his life. Brendan had changed under Ste's iron love to the extent that he had become a father, a proper father – one that talks instead of running away whilst throwing money at every problem. But none of it would ever be complete without Dec and Paddy.

"Let me think about it, talk to the boys."

These Brendan could even manage a, "Thank you" without choking on it.

As he hangs up the phone Steven walks into their bedroom, with a wellied-up Leah and Lucas trailing slightly behind – ready for their walk. All three reach for short hugs goodbye.

"See you later alligators,"

"in a while crocodile," Leah and Lucas sing simultaneously before heading out the door.

"What's that smile about Brendan Brady?" Ste asks, a hand on his hip – a suspicious look in his eye.

"Nothing."

"Oh God I hate surprises – you know that."

"This will be a nice one – trust me."

"Hmmm, I've made that mistake before," Ste smiles rolling his eyes, saying nothing more before leaving.

They're all back two seconds later.

"Forgot something?"

"Just this," Ste says.

He glances at Leah for the go ahead before they both simultaneously blow a kiss.

Brendan just smiles – passively.

"_Dad_ you're supposed to catch them!" Leah complains.

"I'll catch you if you're not careful!" Brendan growls jokingly looking playfully into the eyes of his children.

**10.00 am Saturday 24 June 2017**

Brendan feels a soft pawing around the bed clothes.

Even whilst grasping dreams he smiles softly to himself, any day that starts with Steven's touches is a good day. Even if it also starts with a dizzy swimming sensation, blinding light and bad breath that comes with having drunk far too much the night before.

Amy's warning that four kids are a lot to handle was severely understated! Lucas spent the week asking his older brothers a lot of inappropriate questions about what they got up to with their girlfriends. Leah barely lifted her head from the television, unless it was to tease her "hairy" maybe-step-father. Paddy had been consistently texting or on Facebook like he was an android. And Dec had gone to a pub with Ste's staff on the Friday afternoon and hadn't returned till 3 am – a time Ste thought was entirely reasonable for an eighteen year old lad; but had Brendan skulking around, attempting to look macho and work out whether he still had any 'favours' he could call in.

They all left yesterday afternoon. So this morning Brendan was knackered and hung over, and yes about to pass up sex – he was cowering at himself too.

"Not now," he groans, pressing a kiss to Ste's cheek.

The pawing becomes more insistent, and he gives Ste a small pat on the bum.

"Stop it!" He pleads through his growing smile.

A tongue licks his face and he lets out a small laugh, "seriously Steven, I'm far too hung-over for this shit, maybe if you're good in a couple of hours I'll let you-"

Then something small and warm lands on top of him, right on top of his chest, and he realises it's smaller than any part of Ste's anatomy, and furrier too.

"Not me is it!" Steven protests, burying his head back underneath his pillow, but then remembers to add, "don't think I'll let you forget you said our sex is shit!"

Brendan opens his eyes to see two big brown eyes blinking back at him, and one panting tongue – Mr flufflebottom.

"Oh it is so not my turn!" Brendan tells it.

He wrestles his love for the pillow barrier.

"Geee'r'offf!" Ste complains.

"Steven," Brendan moans, pressing his mouth against Ste's neck. "I got up yesterday and the day before."

"Yeah but you agreed last night. You were all like-" Ste twists his mouth to perform his best Brendan Brady impression, "- Ah Stephen ye know, OI'll get up early for that dog of yers if ye let me have one more whiskey!"

"Why did I ever agree to have a pug?"

"You didn't agree to owt Brendan Brady and you know it… you bought it cos you can't refuse your daughter, innit?"

"Oh my daughter now is she?!"

It was funny how Leah was Amy and Ste's daughter in all reward ceremony's and certificates from school, Ste's daughter if she was doing something endearingly cute, and Brendan's daughter only between the hours of 11pm and 7am when she, or any small furry things attached to her, were being a right pain in the arse. Or when her parents had been called in front of the head master cos she had been loading the Top Trumps deck and encouraging her friends to play for lunch money, again.

Brendan tries to distract Mr Flufflebottom onto the right side of the bed – Ste's side, but the puppy's clearly as stubborn as his owner, and his owner's father.

"Told you it likes you more than me, think it knows you're both devils," Ste says, happily folding himself back into dreams.

"This is incredibly unfair!" Brendan says, giving up.

"Oh diddums!"

When Brendan bought Leah Mr Flufflebottom, he had done it without permission from Ste. He had done it because Leah had been on about a puppy for as long as he could remember, and he had some making up to do to the nine year old blonde. He had done it under the assumption that it wouldn't live with them. But when the Pugs presence in their lives became public knowledge Ste and Amy decided to have a competition over who could blow their tops the most, so he had swiftly become Brendan's responsibility. He was pretty sure that's why Leah's mother had persuaded her daughter to choose such a ridiculous name – it definitely got giggles when Brendan had to call it in at night.

Now 'Mr F', as Brendan chose to refer to him as long as his princess wasn't in ear shot, had been living with them for just under a month. He had eaten most of Brendan's socks, lost his shoe laces and even bought in a dead mouse once when it decided to try and be a cat for the day. Ste had said the cat thing was Brendan's fault too – apparently he'd been watching Arostcats with Lucas too much.

Brendan hadn't ever really pictured himself being an animal owner. Eileen was allergic so it wasn't something they needed to broach in his other life; and this life before Steven wasn't exactly the territory for the cute and fluffy. Brendan isn't sure it if suits him even now. But it makes Leah happy, and Brendan has to admit it was sweet that it was the only thing to have made Paddy loose his disinterested teenager act and smile last week.

Brendan finally relents to Mr Flufflebottom's early morning demands and steps into his slippers…

"Jesus Mary and Joseph!"

"Oh he hasn't done it again?" Ste speaks, sympathy soon turning into raucous laughter.

"Shut up!" Brendan insists, chucking the soiled slipper at Steven – who of course deftly ducks out the way.

"Ah give him a break - he's just marking his territory innit!"

"I'm no-one's territory but yours, Steven." Brendan growls.

Despite Ste's smile, Brendan's still immensely pissed off as he sits down on the bed and wipes his wet foot on Ste's favourite hoody.

"Right so you'll be doing the laundry later then, good," Ste nods.

"Do the laundry, feed the dog, collect the kids – what did your last slave die of?"

"I'm not sure – did you ever come up with a motive?"

Brendan can't help but think Ste's "ooops" face is endearingly cute. He steps into his dressing gown and smiles that it smells like his love.

The only thing that can make early morning, hung-over, bitchy, rude awakenings bearable is Steven.

**9.13 am Saturday 29 July 2017 **

Brendan Brady hates early mornings, loathes them, but he has one favourite way of being woken up. This.

He feels familiar soft lips trail over his thigh, sharp teeth bite at the corner of his hipbone and a learned tongue flick over his navel. His blood pounds solely with one name.

"Happy anniversary babe," Ste breathes as his tongue continues it's path across all of the man's sweet spots.

Ste has so many anniversaries for them it makes Brendan's head spin. He's pretty sure the boy could celebrate an anniversary for anything - "the first time you held my hand," "the first time you ever did my washing up," "the first time we ever watched Jeremy Kyle." They have so many that Brendan is pretty sure they could have one every week - not that he has a problem with that, considering how their anniversaries are spent.

He grips his fingers into his boy's hair, and attempts to lower that fucking cheeky beam to where he needs it.

"Patience," Ste beams.

He grasps the man's hands, and holds them against their crisp blue bed sheets. Ste works him onto his back, separates his legs, trails a delicious tongue up his very inner calf.

"Almost forty and still fucking hot," Ste teases, and groans at Brendan's reciprocal bottom slap.

He takes both his hands around Brendan's impressive member. He licks, just once over the head and smiles at the look of desperation in Brendan's blue eyes. Waits for Brendan to name their anniversary – his reward is dependent on it.

Brendan tries to focus his mind enough to work out what today is – the 29th of July. He thinks he can see it clearly in the beam in his boy's eye and the lick of that tongue helps jog his memory.

"Eight years!" Brendan says, possibly a little too triumphantly.

"You remember?" Ste eyes paint happiness and pride.

He climbs up his man, straddling over him, and presses their mouths in a kiss.

"Course," Brendan answers, a little surprised - he never forgets anything about their sex and he thought Ste knew that. "It was an amazing day."

Ste agrees with caution - in reality the day had been in equal amounts the greatest bliss and the sharpest pain. But it was a momentous day, a break through to the honesty they share every day now. Ste is certain they wouldn't be here without it. If you told him eight years ago they'd be here now he'd have thought you'd needed sectioning.

Brendan trails his hand softly over Ste's face. That afternoon was a lesson worth remembering. They already knew each other so well, but the things Ste knew in his flat that day – the way he could move his tongue… Ste had come back to him wiser, more experienced, more talented. And although the evidence of other men had bitten jealousy into Brendan there was one thing that he would always be thankful to that dumb Noah for. And now those tricks had been sharpened by their future, owned by their happy ever after.

"Can you believe it's been eight years since then though," Ste asks, "feels like such a long time! But then like no time at all. Just proper changed everything didn't it?"

"Oh yeah…" Brendan says making his voice drip with the Irish, and he leans up for a kiss, Ste dislodges him though – lost to memories.

Brendan growls a little – he should be being rewarded right now.

"Like even if we didn't know it at the time-"

"Oh I always knew it," Brendan insists.

"No you never! I don't think you even knew it back then, I mean did you even really know you were gonna tell me?!"

"Tell you?" Brendan doesn't remember telling Ste anything about that event, Ste didn't seem to need instruction from the moment he had him pinned up against the wall. Brendan always thought the boy had pretty much done it on his own accord. That said, he had lost his mind from the very first time their lips collided, he could have easily spoken without thought – he liked giving orders back then.

Ste's brow crumples at Brendan's question.

"Yeah - eight years since… you first told me you loved me…"

"Oh of course!...Yeah course I knew I was gon-" Brendan back tracks, just not soon enough.

"Oh my god you didn't think I meant _that_!"

Ste had thought, with all the amazing things Brendan had said to him that day, they would both share in those memories - not the fact that it was the first time he had ever given his man a blow job.

"Course not!" Brendan breathes aiming for another kiss of those pouting lips.

"You are such a perve Brendan Brady!" Ste says, eyes wide as he forgets his laugh at the back of his throat.

"You love it!" Brendan insists, grabbing the boy's neck and kissing that pout right off his face.

Brendan trains the kiss as dirty – lips and teeth and tash owning the only boy he's ever belonged to. He takes the first keen as a reward, hooks their bodies around, and pulls away, just to their foreheads touch.

His hand trails down a taut, quivering torso.

"I was right." He breathes, deeply, "every day you are always in my head."

**12.45 am 26 August 2017**

"I cooked," Brendan announces.

Ste hides back behind his towel, physically cowering away from the thought of the insult on the senses that Brendan likes to call cooking. The soup was definitely homemade – that was the nicest thing Ste could think to say about it. It looked a little like what Ste had lost down the toilet bowl over the last week, and it tasted pretty similar too. And the bread?! Let's just not go there.

Ste knew the man was trying, really trying to be… what? Caring – taking time off work to awkwardly sit staring at the clock, winding himself up with thoughts of what Anne would be doing in his absence. Comforting – plumping Ste's pillows like they were a boxing bag. Protective – making honey and lemon like he was loading a gun. Kind – because obviously making Ste eat yet another one of those bowels of 'chicken soup' would be _kind_.

Ste musters up enough energy to offer gratitude and pulls the towel back over his head, spluttering from the steamed Vic.

Brendan is awful at this. He's had next to no practice. And Ste was the caring one of the relationship. He was the one that looked after them both with vitamin tablets, calorie counts, and housework rotas - though Brendan would be hard pushed to find either of those last two caring. Brendan saw his role as more of the powerful bread winner, the man, the one wearing the trousers – although he had learned that making a decision without Ste is a crime punishable by death, or the equitable fortnight long sex ban.

Ste starts another spluttering fit. Brendan rubs at Ste's back, making cooing noises and comforting whispers and that makes Ste cough more because he's… _scared_, wouldn't be too harsh a word.

"Brendan, you're proper freaking me out now! Stop trying to be so sweet right and start offering to rub vic on my chest, or sommit."

"Are you trying to imply I'm the sex obsessed one in this outfit?!" Brendan protests, before his heart races that way it always does whenever he thinks about sex, not just sex but sex with Steven.

"Did you want me to rub vic on you?" Brendan asks, voice low and eyes predictably dark, "I would."

Ste shakes his head – exasperated, "it weren't supposed to be a serious suggestion!"

"OK, do you want me to run you a bath?"

"What? No…thank you!"

"Make you a hot water bottle?"

"Brendan - I have a fever right? And its' twenty eight degrees, yeah I'd proper love a hot water bottle, right now, me!"

Brendan's off the bed in a moment, checking out the fan – which was quite clearly fine before he started fiddling with it.

"Fix you a honey and lemon?"

"No."

"Plump your pillows?...rub your feet?...bring you a magazine?...read you three little pigs?"

"Stop it! No I proper don't, and I don't want any more of that soup, just go to the club before you really gimme a headache!"

Ste's immediate feelings of guilt are made worse when Brendan pulls his best 'kicked puppy' expression.

He could understand why the man was doing it – he knows that his unprotectability is Brendan's worst nightmare. But Brendan had been under his feet for days now, and he knew he didn't want to be there either. They had been getting on each other's nerves and bickering constantly, and that didn't make Ste feel any better.

"I'll be a couple of hours then," Brendan says, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to pull off that look Ste could see through six years ago – uninterested defiance. "You can call me if you… need me."

***B&S***

It's funny how you can miss even the most annoying things in life.

"Where are you?" Ste asks when Brendan answers the phone.

"In the lounge." He hadn't left – of course he hadn't, he doesn't do that anymore.

Ste finds himself smiling, for the first time in days.

"You're supposed to be at work!"

"You're not getting rid of me, Steven. Just give me a job to do, please? Even if it's washing your bloody car, cos I can't sit here much longer."

"Just come here will you?"

***B&S***

"I'm sorry," the boy says too weak to even lift his head from the pillow.

"You really don't have to apologise, Steven."

"No I do, I was proper rude, all you were try'na do was be sweet and-"

"Now you know," Brendan says with that mischievous beam. "Sweet doesn't really suit me."

"No it don't!"

Ste smiles at the love of his life, and lifts the duvet for his presence next to him. Brendan pulls him to and they snuggle into one another, Ste's head resting on Brendan's chest, Brendan's arm wrapped around the boys shoulders, the embrace that feels like home. Ste finds sleep there for a while, and Brendan never once thinks of Ste's cold or the fact his shirt is dry clean only.

Ste's sleep is always shallow when he's sick, but it feels comforting, next to his man.

"Did you mean what you said?" Ste croaks eventually.

"Yeah," Brendan whispers, stroking a thumb down his love's poorly cheek. "You know, I've been thinking your car needs a wash for a while but didn't think I should say anything."

"Well I'm sorry if I've been letting your image down!"

Brendan sighs exasperated. "Why are you angry now?"

"I'm not talking about the bloody car, am I?"

"What, then?"

Ste takes a moment to pretend that they've been different people this week, that they've remembered to love each other and haven't disputed nearly everything. He makes a silent gamble and a committed leap - the answer to this question is the most important in his world.

"That I'm not gonna get rid of you?"

"Is that really a serious question?"

Brendan's hand curves around Ste's chin, tilts his head to look at him.

"Steven you have to do a lot more than catch a nasty cold for me to run off these days – I'm not going anywhere, ever, you get me? I'm here for life," he promises with a kiss of honesty.

Later, as the boy sleeps, Brendan trails a finger over his soft cheek and smiles, "Steven Hay you are my life."


End file.
